


Opia (Teldryn Sero/Former Nord Patron)

by Nudebeme



Series: Chac and Teldryn [18]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Elf/Human Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4182930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nudebeme/pseuds/Nudebeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Opia: The ambiguous intensity of Looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable. Teldryn Sero hasn't had the most exciting life since winding up in the Gray Quarter, and he often felt that he needed to pray to the Three just to get him out of this awful slum. Spending his days in languid poverty, an unlikely opportunity comes to him in the form of a brutish, blue-eyed Nord that would soon take Teldryn on a wild ride that would change his very life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opia (Teldryn Sero/Former Nord Patron)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon request on Tumblr for a drabble titled "Opia"

          Teldryn never considered himself the nurturing kind, he lived mostly for himself and the very few he liked- girlfriends, neighbors, that sort. He was more of the bodyguard type, he made sure his imposing presence was always felt whenever the need be, hidden behind a callously cold chitin helmet. Behind the helmet he felt safe, felt powerful and above all, it kept the damn ash out of his eyes.

But in Skyrim no ash blew in the wind, it was one of the many things he loved about the land. Morrowind sadly wasn't the beautiful province his father promised him it once was, he'd been born after the great explosion from Red mountain and ashen landscapes where all he knew. Perhaps the only reason why he continued to live in this slum of Windhelm was because the thick layer of snow was a permanent reminder of his home, albeit a frigid one. A depressing one. Being surrounded by bitter Dunmer day in and day out while failing to find any work was getting to him much more than he'd ever like to admit.

So he spent his days in the Cornerclub, chatting up the thrice-damned locals or putting the schmooze on any young Dunmer woman who wandered in for a meal. Tonight really felt no different, frigid air blowing in through the cracks of the cheap wooden door, the slum having naught but a layer of stone separating them from Windhelm's eternal winter. Teldryn had just enough money to keep himself above abject poverty, not enough to leave and not enough to enjoy life.

There he sat, unsure of what to do with himself for the umpteenth night. He had little to say to Ambarys, personally finding the Dunmer too depressing even for him. Malthyr was little better, watching him from behind his helmet as he swatted the same fly from his ear five times already. No women, no music, Teldryn finally decided that tonight was the night he'd lose his mind.

All three turned their heads when the door flew open, creaking on unoiled hinges and letting the bitter cold in. Expecting a Dunmer local, all where surprised to see their customer was someone completely new, and unexpected. A Nord man, tall and imposing dressed in skins and steel. Snow dusted his blonde hair, and in with him came the faint aroma of an unwashed man. He'd failed to close the door behind him, massive footsteps leading up to the counter, his voice thick with a Nordic accent.

“Mead. Don't care if it's warm or not.”

“Come slummin' to the Gray Quarter, have you?” Ambarys says, looking less than pleased as he fetched the first bottle of the Nord swill he could find. Malthyr grumbled all the while closing the door, Teldryn doing little other than simply watching the massive newcomer, a chill running up his spine from the breeze.

“Just give me the mead.” He sighs, digging through his unwashed furs and producing a massive bag of coin that caught the eyes of all three Dunmer. “I'll pay you extra if you don't spit in it. I ain't here to bother anyone.”

That must have done something to Ambarys, that wince in his face a clear sign he'd let his hatred get the better of him. “We don't spit in drinks around here. Sorry if anyone thinks otherwise.” The Nord refused a mug, taking his dusty bottle and surveying the cornerclub for a proper seat- he eyed the armored Dunmer sitting by himself, and found the seat beside him to be just the right one.

Confusion hidden behind the mask, Teldryn scooted his wooden chair just the slightest away from the hulking man, feeling incredible awkwardness as the Nord stared at him, sizing the chitin armor up with appraising eyes. He smelled a bit, just enough to penetrate the red cloth over his nose.

  
  


“So what's your deal?” The Nord asks, Teldryn refusing to look at the man past the corner of his eyes. The stranger had never seen such armor before, it looked expensive, or at least used by a skilled warrior. The Nord took a deep drink, small droplets of water gathering on the dirty floor while the snow melted off his soaked furs.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Not from around here, I take it?”

Teldryn didn't look at him, awkwardly spinning the flin in his mug in small whirlpools just as he always does. It'd been a while since anyone but the usual locals came to him, and Teldryn had been treated less than fairly by Nords that found themselves in the Grey Quarter. “I thought you said you weren't here to bother anyone.”

“Hey, I can't build a rapport with you if you're such a stick in the mud.” The Nord laughs, a gravelly sound that caught the Dunmer off guard. He took the flin to his mask and lifted the crimson fabric just high enough to take a sip, something to burn the smell of the Nord out of his nose. The Nord continued, seemingly unwilling to leave Teldryn alone. “I've been looking all over Windhelm for a sellsword. The entrepreneur type, if you know what I mean.”

“And you came to me because...?” Teldryn felt his intrigue piqued in the slightest, it _was_ known around Windhelm that he was a great warrior, but so few came to him for his services he'd might as well have been another idle townie.

“Listen, the wench up at Candlehearth told me to come down here because the drinks aren't shit, and that there was someone who could pack a nasty punch for the right price. I don't see anyone else around here fitting that description, 'cept for you.” When he spoke, Teldryn caught the faint glimmer of his gold tooth from behind hazy goggles...golden rings on his unarmed fingers. Teldryn was so out of it he didn't even know what to say, of course he was for hire but how long has it been? The day he stepped off the boat into this cursed city he'd barely left the gates.

“Well she was telling the truth. Teldryn Sero, of Blacklight. The finest spellsword this far West of Morrowind, this I can assure you.” There it was, his pitch, the few lines he'd practiced but so rarely used as of late. He'd been hoping his first hire would have been an adventurous young woman, someone busty with flowing yellow hair, someone with a thing for Dunmer playboys. Beggars can't be choosers, and he was certainly a few hundred septims away from becoming a beggar.

“Hmph. Nice pitch. Well if she says you're as good as you are, I'm heading down to the Rift. Found a map pointin' out some loot but I'm not planning on doing it alone. You interested?”

The Rift? Teldryn's mind raced with what options he should take..he looked at the man and sized him up, his mind foreseeing a week or two in the company of this Nord. He thought of what would happen if he said no, peeking over at the eavesdropping two Dunmer behind the bar...the sameness of slum life. He'd let his next question be the deciding factor..

“Treasure, Eh? How much are you willing to spend for my services?”

The Nord merely finished off the last drops of his mead, wiping his blonde beard with the back of his hand. With a grunt he sized up his coin pouch, jingling it ever so slightly.

“How's a thousand up front, and you keep whatever you like from the loot?”

Teldryn choked, he'd never been given such a large offer- even Ambarys' jaw hung in shock. The Nord never considered himself a cheapskate, he wasn't in it for the money after all; it was the conquest he sought. If it werent for the mask, he'd have seen Teldryn's eyes grow as wide as saucers. It was in that moment that Teldryn decided that of course he was going to go through with it. Perhaps the three have finally gifted him a chance out of this wretched hellhole at last!

“I accept!” He tried not to sound so excited, pushing himself up to stand and seeing that the Nord stood as well, Teldryn falling just shy of his height by a few inches. He needed the adventure just as much as the gold, and the Nord didn't seem like he wanted to wait around any longer to get going.

“Fine, let's get a move on. What did you say your name was, again? Telbrim?”

“Teldryn. Teldryn Sero. And your name?”

“Don't got one. Keeps people off my back, know what I mean?”

“....Well I have to call you _something.”_

“So call me something. We'll figure it out once we get out of here, I hate this place.”

“A shared sentiment. Let me just give my farewells and we'll be off.”

“Aye. Don't take too long.”

Teldryn briefly considered that this large man may be a little mental, but it was too late to turn back now. The gold now pouring into his own deflated purse, Teldryn and his nameless patron made for the exit after a brief farewell. Teldryn knew he'd be back within a week or two, it'd be a wonderful escape from this humdrum.

His patron didn't seem to like to talk much as he led the way towards the exit of Windhelm, the air less filthied with stench as they climbed the steps out of the Grey Quarter. Opening the gates and making a silent farewell to Windhelm, Teldryn was met with the sight of the long bridge towards the mountains, the vicious winds strong enough to stagger even a Dunmer of his size.

His patron seemed to unwind the slightest as they made it beyond earshot of any and all locals, the falling snow silencing all surrounding sounds until it was just them and the wind. Teldryn wasn't the quiet type, and soon he found himself asking his new patron just one simple question.

“Have you got a horse, or-”

“Nope. He got killed half a month ago, can't bring myself to get a new one.”

“Ah...I see.”

There was a span of time where the Nord seemed to be messing with his map, the darkness surrounding them making it impossible for his aging eyes to read it.

“Hey, gimme a light.” He snapped his fingers, and Teldryn briefly felt surprised by the rudeness- then he remembered; of course, a Nord. No manners, no courtesy. He'd just have to get used to it fast. Teldryn summoned a sprite of white light over their heads, the Nord pointing out the clearest path through the tundra.

“Alright, we're going south and we ain't stopping til we get out of this cold. And another thing...” The Nord turned to him, leaning the scant few inches of their heights and giving Teldryn the most suspicious look. “Take off that helmet. I want to get a good look at you, just in case you decide to run off somewhere with my shit.”

Teldryn wasn't the kind to just reveal himself to any old Nord, but he felt that the suspicion was justified, the man looked like he had all kinds of wealth. Reaching for his helmet, Teldryn's ashen skin touching the fresh open air and instinctively moving fingers through his flattened mohawk. The Dunmer blinked under the brightness of the floating sprite, meeting eyes with the Nord for the first time, unmasked.

What he felt next was something he'd never been able to explain. The Nord's eyes where a blue he'd never seen on a mortal man before, so intense under thick blonde brows that it stunned him stiff. They bore into him, blue eyes seemingly staring right into him as if searching for something only the Nord could know. They moved about his face, from his pierced ears to his purple tattoos, appraising him to some strange effect.

“Hmm... Pretty boy, eh?” The Nord said, noticing that his new hire's face lacked the unnerving alien appearance that he'd found on all Dunmer men. The comment surprised the elf, brows raised to show more of the deep red of his eyes, to which the Nord said nothing of. It was a spell cast on both of them that neither thought too deeply into, Teldryn feeling the need to say something snarky.

“What would I be without my dashing good looks?” Teldryn grins, the Nord catching sight of the purple stud through his tongue- the likes of which he'd never seen before. He chose to not comment on it, walking away from Teldryn and leaving the unmasked elf to follow him.

“Well you'd just be a spellsword.” He says flatly, pulling his travel pack a little tighter over his back “-An ugly one. I was actually hoping you'd be a disfigured bugger, so the ladies would come to _me_ instead. ”

“Ah...a-ha? Well, sorry to disappoint.” Teldryn shrugs.

“Don't do it again.” Teldryn couldn't see the Nord's smile, thinking his new patron was being honest. The road ahead was pitch black, Teldryn fitting his helmet over his head again and realizing the Nord took _big_ steps. Picking up his pace, what he thought would be a quick job would turn out to be an adventure that would shape his very life and heart for the rest of his life.

 


End file.
